Start of a novel...

.. okay, so it's a novel that I may never write. I actually wrote this months ago and never expanded on it, and while I do still want to write a fantasy novel at some stage, I have a completely different plot in mind - all the characters and most of the storyline has been taking shape in my head for the last few weeks, though I have yet to begin writing it. Since I haven't posted anything on this blog for absolutely ages, I thought I'd put this up and hopefully someone will read it (and maybe even enjoy it!).  I don't have a title for this... really didn't get very far with it at all!

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In the bowels of Mount Edna, amazing things were happening.

The inside of the mountain had been hollowed out over a course of many years, with immense concrete struts supporting the vast weight of the rocky surface. Mount Edna was one of a kind – an extinct volcano that was actually safe to be near, yet still supplied a ready flow of magma, strictly controlled. The enormous energy created by the intense heat of the magma was then used to drive gigantic machines.

The air in the mountain was fresh due to an ingenious method of continually flushing fresh air in and stale air out. The mountain hollow housed thousands of workers and hundreds of supervisors. These supervisors supervised, the workers worked, the machines machined. Out of the machines came a product so unbelievable that few even of those who saw it could believe it.

There was no magic in their world, but what the machines made was a kind of magic in itself. Unbeknownst to those who were making it, or even those who had ordered it to be made, it was going to change their world completely…



Urmilla looked around at the familiar sights of her village. Market stalls were everywhere to be seen, with the usual sights, sounds and smells of the markets reaching her eyes, ears, and (sometimes reluctantly) her nose. The town was bustling as it always was on market day, with livestock, deadstock, and other stock being sold to the highest bidder. A great commotion came from the main auction house, where another antique was being sold for a huge amount of Dakosh. Children scampered about, got in the way of everyone around them, and generally caused chaos wherever they went, just like children on every world in every era.

“Glnaj for them,” said a familiar voice.

Jolted out of her reverie, Urmilla jumped slightly. “I thought I’d told you to stop doing that!” she exclaimed crossly.

“Doing what? Speaking to you? Is that now a crime punishable by Throllick now?”

“Tsk. Always joking, always failing to get the point of what people say to you.”

“Never failing, actually. Just choosing to ignore. Still, I’m sorry I startled you.”

Urmilla shrugged. “Father always told me that I was too highly strung – I guess he was right. And my thoughts probably aren’t worth a whole Glnaj, anyway. Not right now.” Her beautiful face had briefly been lit by a smile but then relapsed to her former melancholy expression.

The young man looked at her, concerned though amused by her words. “You’ve been thinking about it again, haven’t you?”

“Yes…. I can’t really stop thinking about it… it was so long ago, yet it feels like it just happened.”

Trillogh put his muscular arms around her slim shoulders. “There was nothing you could have done – you know that. You were just a child.”

She fought back a tear. “I know, but somehow… I can’t help feeling responsible. If I hadn’t gone into the forest against my parents advice, my mother and father wouldn’t have…” Urmilla choked, unable to bring herself to complete that awful sentence.